


Hands Held Steady, Head Kept Cool

by misura



Category: Legion (2010)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Fade to Black, First Aid, First Time, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're a pretty tough guy, huh?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Held Steady, Head Kept Cool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Casey_Wolfe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Wolfe/gifts).



Jeep hadn't really noticed anything was wrong until Michael took off his shirt - and even then, his first thought was more along the lines of _damn, that's some nice body_ than of any actual alarm, which probably said something not at all flattering about his priorities here.

Then Michael turned, showing his back, and said, "Would you mind giving me a hand with this?" and Jeep, feeling like an idiot twice over managed a "Yeah, sure," before he could really think about it.

Story of his life, some might say.

 

"Ain't anything fancy," Jeep said, opening up the diner's first-aid kit. It looked as old and run-down as the rest of the place; still, he figured bandages weren't exactly the sort of thing that'd go bad or spoil or something.

"I don't need fancy." Michael held out his hand imperiously - for the kit, Jeep realized a few seconds too late. "Simple will suit me fine. Have you ever done something like this before?"

"Sure," Jeep said. "Patched up another angel who'd cut off his wings just last week."

Michael didn't actually laugh, but he did smile, a little, and Jeep saw the muscles in his back move under the skin. He imagined what Michael'd look like with his wings. They'd have to be pretty big, he figured, to carry a full-sized man. White, of course, and fluffy.

Jeep wondered what it was like to be able to fly. One more question he wasn't ever going to embarrass himself by asking, most likely, right up there with _so when you say you love me, did you mean that, like,_ love me _love me?_. Some things were best left in the realm of dreams, unsaid.

"So how'd you manage the first time, anyway?" he asked instead. "Some good Samaritan help you out?"

Completely stupid, to feel a flash of jealousy at the idea. Whoever they'd been, they'd probably saved Michael's life and besides, they were probably dead now, same as most of humanity.

A strange thought, that. Jeep figured he'd need to a while to get his head around it. They'd never exactly seen a lot of people around here, sure, but he'd always known there were lots and lots of people out there, one phone call away.

"No," Michael said. "I did it myself. Hence, the sloppy work."

Jeep thought about what it'd be like to stitch up your own back, then wished he hadn't. He felt sick at the idea.

"There was a mirror," Michael explained, as if that made any difference.

"You're a pretty tough guy, huh?" A good guy to have around in this kind of situation, Jeep supposed. A good guy to be able to rely on when you couldn't even bring yourself to pull the trigger on something that had just ripped a man's throat out with its teeth.

"I have had a long time to become the way I am now," Michael said, gently, as if he knew exactly what Jeep was thinking. "Our situations are very different."

"Yeah. For one thing, it's not me who's just saved everyone in this diner."

Michael looked at him. "You would have died willingly, if it meant saving them. Don't think that is something of no value. You have plenty of courage. Of valor." He reached out a hand to cup Jeep's face, which felt ... a little bit too much.

Then again, it was just his hand. Not like he'd tried to kiss Jeep or anything.

"Um," Jeep said. There'd been a few girls at the diner who'd flirted with him for a bit, but they hadn't meant anything by it; just customers, waiting for their order, looking for something halfway interesting to do. "Wasn't I supposed to be helping you with your back?"

Michael smiled at him, a full smile this time. Jeep's stomach felt fluttery, with not even a tiny bit of that earlier queasiness remaining. "There is time. Not a lot, but some."

_How much time?_ Jeep considered asking, but didn't. The answer wouldn't mean anything to him, anyway; he had no idea whatsoever how much time it would take to ... do something about this feeling he had. Assuming there even was anything to do about it.

Jeep might not know a lot about how these things worked, but he knew you needed two people for it, and while Michael might be happy to go around touching Jeep's face, that didn't mean ... well.

"So what do I do?" he asked. His mouth felt dry. His face felt hot, especially where Michael was touching him. _Close your eyes,_ he could picture Michael saying. _Let me take care of everything. Trust me._

Michael dropped his hand. "First of all, the wounds will need to be cleaned. Preferably with alcohol."

Jeep balled his right hand into a fist to keep it from reaching up and touching the still-warm place where Michael's hand had been. He looked at the first aid kit.

"Of course, there's a chance I will not live long enough for infection to become a problem," Michael went on. "Still, no point in being fatalistic."

"Are you - " Jeep located the small bottle of alcohol. It was only a quarter full. "Are your wings going to grow back? Or are they just going to be ... well, gone?"

Michael shrugged. If Jeep squinted, he could see Michael's wings, emphasizing the gesture.

"Humans have no wings. I do not expect I will be an exception to that rule."

Jeep had fallen from the slings, once, when he'd been twelve or so. He'd scraped his knee pretty bad; there'd been no need for stitches or anything, but he remembered his father getting this exact same first aid kit, this exact same bottle.

He'd cried a little, even though his dad had told him to be a big boy.

Michael didn't even wince. "If you do not feel up to the stitches, I would be grateful for a mirror, at least. The lighting is better here, as is the amount of time I may take."

"I can do it," Jeep said. "If that's okay with you. I mean, I'm no doctor or anything. Not even a soldier."

"Oh, like it or not, you are definitely a soldier now. Trust me on this."

 

"There, now," Michael said, as he put his shirt back on. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Shouldn't that be _my_ line?" Jeep asked. His hands were shaking - now, which was good. World better than _then_ , when he'd been holding the needle. When there'd been blood on them, none of it his. Michael hadn't made a single sound, but Jeep had felt the tension in his body.

He'd felt humbled, knowing how much Michael trusted him to do this right. A bit scared, too.

"I have been injured many times before. Although not, I will admit, as a human. Still." Michael sighed.

"Some things don't change all that much, huh?"

Jeep wondered what Michael would do if Jeep were to cup _his_ face now. He kind of wanted to - that, or squeeze Michael's shoulder, just a bit. To let him know they were all in this together.

"We should rejoin the others," Michael said, which was as clear a rebuff as Jeep'd ever heard, until Michael added, "Soon," and stepped close enough for Jeep to be able to touch him without even trying.

"Soon," Jeep agreed, and bridged the final bit of distance between them.

His hands were as steady now as they'd been before, knowing exactly where to go.


End file.
